Shutter Speed and Irish Lullabies
by Jameson Rook
Summary: "When photojournalist Dean Winchester is sent to Galway, Ireland to do an investigative piece on the Irish Republican Army he meets the local, handsome bartender Castiel Novak. Before he knows what hit him, he's becoming every movie cliche he's ever seen, but he can't bring himself to care." Destiel AU
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: Supernatural and all of its characters belong to Erik Kripke and the CW Network. No profit is made from the writing of this work, and no copyright infringement is intended. **_

_**This work is dedicated to my partner in crime, for listening**_

_**to my nonsensical ramblings when anyone else would have**_

_**lost their mind already and brightening my day just by being you. **_

_**You're the best! *hugs***_

___Galway, Ireland_

Dean sprinted through the cobblestoned streets of the town center, his Nikon tucked under his jacket protectively, and his notepad stuffed in a pocket. The rain was blinding, and colder then any rain he'd ever experienced back home. Spotting the dull neon of a pub, he made a small, trimumphant noise in the back of his throat and headed toward it.

He practically fell through the door, into the smothering warmth of the pub. The sound of an acoustic guitar playing something that sounded like a folk song he'd heard once filled the sandalwood and beer scented air. Shaking the water out of his short hair, he pulled the camera from under his jacket, inspecting it carefully and letting out a sigh of relief when he realized that it had been unharmed by the onslaught of rain.

The lighting wasn't the greatest, and the worn, weathered wood floors gave the whole place a very rustic feeling. Dean glanced around the small pub, noting that there were very few patrons tucked into the dark corner booths. It was quaint, and exactly what he'd come to expect in the week he'd been on assignment in Ireland.

When the editor of his newspaper had told him that he was getting a chance to go abroad and investigate the Irish Republican Army, he'd been irrationally excited. He'd rushed back to his house, thrown a bunch of clothing in a bag, and been at the airport within the hour.

Dean glared out the window of the pub, watching the rain continue to pelt the streets relentlessly. Shrugging out of the soaked olive drab jacket, he hung it on one of the hooks, and headed towards the bar. He figured, as long as he was hiding from the raging storm, he may as well grab a beer. He was took a seat at one of the rickety stools, setting his camera and notepad on the bar carefully.

"What'll it be?" The voice on the other side of the bar was deep, gravelly, and thick with the most sultry Irish accent that Dean had ever heard. His heart nearly stopped when he lifted his gaze and was met with sapphire eyes. The man was tall, not as tall as Dean but not short by any means, and had a coating of stubble on his jaw. He shot Dean a thousand watt smile and leaned his head down to get a better look at Dean's face. "You okay?"

"I'm, uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, no, I'm..." Dean stammered, running his fingers absently through his rain soaked hair. "I'm good. Can I get a beer?" He added a hurried 'please', because his mother had taught him manners, even in the face of arousal, damn it.

"You want to be more specific, lad?" The man laughed, and Dean swore to Christ it was like a chorus of angels singing hallelujahs. His stomach flipped over and his tongue suddenly felt a thousand times too big for his mouth.

"Surprise me?" He replied, his voice raspy and thick. The man smiled at him knowingly, and Dean could feel a heated blush creeping up his neck. The bartender stared at him for another long moment, making Dean squirm on the barstool and play with the strap of his camera absently. The other man finally walked to the other side of the bar, tucking a white washrag into the back pocket of his well-fitted black slacks as he went.

Dean was not used to this. The feeling of embarassment and anxiousness around someone else. The whole 'being hot for a guy' thing wasn't new, no, he'd had that tendency since high school football season his senior year. The 'giddy little school girl with a crush' thing was new, though. Maybe it was something about the intoxicating way the man smiled at him, or the way that he could watch the muscles moving under the white dress shirt and black vest.

All too soon, a tall glass of amber colored beer was settled in front of him and that shark smile was trained on him again. He picked up the glass, bringing it up to his nose to the rim, inhaling the scent of hops and something sweeter.

"What is this?" He questioned, his eyes fluttering closed at the scent. He brought the glass to his lips and took a tentative swallow, groaning when the liquid hit his tongue. When he opened his eyes, he noted that the sapphire of the man's eyes had given way to the inky black of his pupils. He swallowed around the thick lump in his throat and set the beer back on the condensation damp coaster.

"Irish Cream Ale." He replied, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Dean with rapt attention. "So, business or pleasure?" Dean choked on the mouthful of beer he had, coughing hard and pounding a fist against his chest until he regained his breath.

"I'm...I'm sorry?"

"Well, you're accent says that you're from across the pond. Are you here on business or pleasure?"

"Oh." Dean chuckled nervously and nodded. "Mostly business, but it's hard not to mix them in a place like this."

"It is a beautiful place." The man nodded. Dean extended his hand over the bar.

"I'm Dean Winchester, by the way." The man eyed him for a moment before reaching out and shaking his hand.

"Hello, Dean. My name is Castiel Novak." Castiel's hand was large and warm, callouses coating the palm, but his fingers were long, and slender.

"You have an artist's hands." Dean whispered before his brain could stop his mouth from moving. The shy smile on Castiel's lips had him immediately wishing he could take it back. "I, uh...sorry, that was-."

"No worries, boyo. I'm taking it as a compliment." Castiel smiled happily at him. An man at the end of the bar waved a hand at Castiel, gesturing at him empty glass. Dean watched as Castiel wiped his hands on the rag and straightened the midnight blue tie around his neck. "I've got to take care of business, but I'll be back down his way. Finish that beer, lad, and don't go runnin' off. I want to know more about you, Dean Winchester." Dean nodded, unable to convince his brain that it was polite to respond when someone spoke to you.

The man oozed swagger and sex appeal, even managing to, somehow, make wiping down the bar after filling the man's beer look sexy. He grinned at Dean over the tap knobs, shooting him a wink, and it was only then that Dean realized he was still staring like a complete creeper. His eyes snapped back to the wall in front of him, and he lifted the beer to his lips, draining half of the pint in one drink.

"It's good, isn't it?" Castiel's voice startled him and he nearly jumped off of the stool.

"I, uh, yeah, it's real good. Tastes like cream soda."

"That's the point of 'Irish cream ale'." He laughed. Dean leveled a half-assed glare at him.

"Hardy har." Castiel gave him another smooth, cocky grin.

"So, Dean, what kind of business is it that you're here doing?"

"I'm a photojournalist. I work with a newspaper back in Kansas, they sent me over here to research." Dean took another large gulp of his beer.

"What're you researching?" Castiel questioned, reaching over and grabbing two shotglasses. He filled them both with whiskey and slid one of them in front of Dean. He lifted his own in a toast, and Dean mirrored the action. "Slante." The men downed their shots in one go.

"I'm researching..." Dean glanced around cautiously. His travel advisor had warned him that he should be cautious about who he spoke to reguarding his research. The IRA wasn't exactly a forgiving group. He lowered his voice and leaned in, crooking a finger at Castiel until his mouth was directly next to the man's ear. He took the oppourtunity to covertly inhale the scent clinging to his skin. He smelled of sandalwood, and something crisp and clean, like summer rain or fresh air in a field. "The IRA." Castiel pulled away slowly, his knuckles white with his grip on the towel.

"That's a ballsy topic, Dean." He finally stated after a pregnant pause.

"I know, Cas. That's why I wanted to cover it." Dean started, running his finger over the rim of his beer glass. "I wanted to cover something more then just the local basketball game. I want to be taken seriously, and I just...can't if I don't pick up some more serious cases." Castiel tilted his head to the side, the wild dark hair on his head flopping over his forehead. Dean quirked an eyebrow skyward. "What?" "You called me Cas."

"I'm...sorry? Did you not want me to?" Dean questioned, trying to find some way to backpedal.

"No, no, it's...it's fine, it's just that no one has ever called me that before." Cas gave him a soft smile. "I like it."

"Oh. Well. Good." Dean responded with a grin of his own, draining the rest of the his beer. Cas picked up the glass and moved to fill it up. When he returned, he set it back on the coaster, and set about rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Dean watched, entranced as inch by inch of milky, softly tanned skin was revealed. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip when he saw the soft skin of Cas' inner elbow that was practically _created_ to be kissed.

"How long are you going to be in country, Dean?" He questioned, leaning forward with his hands on the bar. Dean ran his hand over the back of his neck and pulled a half shrug.

"As long as it takes. Could be a week, could be a year."

"That must be tough on your family."

"Only family I got is my kid brother. Sammy. He's in law school though, so it's not..." Dean trailed off. He missed Sammy like hell and talking about him didn't help. Instead, he snagged his camera off the bar and lifted it to his eye. "Smile, Cas."

"S'long as this doesn't end up on the front page of the New York Times." Cas chuckled, brushing his hair off his forehead and giving Dean a dazzling smile. Dean snapped the picture and pulled away to look at the digital screen.

"Perfect. You have a face built to photograph." Dean mumbled, more to himself then Cas.

"S'that mean you think I'm pretty then?" Cas chuckled, reaching out toward the camera. Dean noticed what he was doing and he turned the camera, showing Cas the photo. The other man hummed his approval and smiled. "That's a good picture, Dean. You're good at what you do."

"It helps when I got good subjects to shoot." Dean replied. They stared at each other, grins plastered to their faces until Dean finally broke away and looked out the window. "It's Summer! I thought it was supposed to be warm!"

"It is warm, lad!" Came a voice from the end of the bar. Dean turned to see the other man looking at him with an amused smile. "Can't ya see I broke out my Summer sweater! You're in Ireland, boy." The man gestured to the corded, green sweater he wore and Dean chuckled nervously.

"Oh, settle down over there, Balthazar. Don't make me call Gabriel and have him drag your ass home." Cas called tossing a coaster at the man. "Ignore my brother, he's forty-five going on a hundred. 'Old soul', that's what my father used to tell us."

"That's your brother?" Dean questioned, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. Cas nodded and leaned a hip against the bar.

"Sadly, yes. My older brother. I'm the youngest of five. Balthazar is next, then Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael." Dean nodded slowly, his eyes moving from Balthazar back to Cas.

"Wow, your house must have been a nightmare growing up." Cas laughed and nodded.

"It was definitely something. Worst part was that we only had one bathroom. _That _was the real nightmare." Dean could feel the alcohol starting to warm his limbs, shaking out the cold from the rain that had clung to him even after coming inside. "So...I know that people on your side of the world aren't exactly as straight forward about this but...I want to see you again, Dean Winchester."

"Oh, okay. That's...I'll probably be in here again quite a few times before I leave, I'm sure I'll see you again." Dean replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. He couldn't quite understand why exactly Cas had brought that up.

"No, Dean, that's not what I..." Cas trailed off, running his hand over the back of his neck as his eyes dropped to the ground in front of him. "I meant _see_ you again." Dean stared at him, a blank expression on his face. Cas was floundering for a more accurate phrase when Balthazar sighed heavily, leaning his forearm on the bar and turning to look at the pair of them.

"He's trying to tell you that he wants to take you to dinner. Like a date. You _do_ know what a date is don't you, love? Cassie has this little problem." Balthazar waved his hand in the general direction of Castiel. "He's really good at acting the part of the sexy, confident bartender when he's got that vest on, but, when it comes to actually interacting with people beyond taking a drink order? It all goes down the pisser." The man nodded and turned back to his beer slowly. Castiel was blushing wildly when Dean turned back to him.

"Well...yeah...I'd like that." He smiled, nodding and standing off the stool. He was reaching for his wallet when Cas waved him off.

"Please, the beers are on me."

"Wow, well...thanks, Cas. So, how about...dinner, tonight? After you get off work tonight?"

"Sounds good." Cas replied shyly, brushing his hand through his hair. "I'll see you tonight, Dean."

"Yeah, I'll, uh, see you tonight..." Dean nodded, shrugging into his jacket and putting his camera back around his neck. He was halfway out the door when a large arm closed around his bicep. He turned and found Cas staring at him.

"I forgot that you didn't get my number in case you need to get ahold of me. " He hooked his index finger around Dean's camera strap and pulled him close enough that Dean could feel the heat radiating off his skin. Cas tucked a piece of paper into Dean's front pocket, letting his fingers skim over the hair below his belly button. Dean shuddered when Cas leaned in to whisper in his ear, his lips brushing over the heated skin. "Tonight?"

"T-tonight..." Dean stammered, nodding slowly. Cas pulled away, smirking at him.

"I'll see you then, I guess." Dean watched Cas walk back around the bar before backing out the door into the rain. He had a feeling that the goofy grin on his face wasn't going away anytime soon...

As he started walking back to his rental cottage, dodging the raindrops and making a mental note that he needed to buy his boss a present for sending him to Ireland. He was in his cottage, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing on a pot of coffee when a realization hit him.

He was going to have to go on a date with Castiel Novak and not make an ass of himself...that was going to be fun...


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was pacing in front of the window of his cottage for the hundreth time, smoothing his hands over the light blue button down that he'd put on, when the sound of tires crunching along the gravel driveway sounded. He peeked out the window, his heart pounding when he caught sight of Cas sliding out of the older model pick-up truck.

Dean moved to stand in front of the door, his hand fluttering between his side and the doorknob until there was a series of three solid knocks. He sucked a deep breath through his nose and pulled the door open. The breath got caught in his lungs when he caught sight of Cas. The other man wore dark, faded blue jeans with a black t-shirt tucked into the waist band. He vaguely registered the sight of black swirls of ink peeking out from under the left sleeve. He hummed softly to himself, curious about how the soft looking bartender had ended up with a tattoo.

"Hello, Dean." Cas smiled, his white teeth accented against the dark whiskers on his face. Dean gave him a smile of his own, and stepped to the side to gesture him inside before responding.

"Hey, Cas. How was work?"

"Not bad." Cas shrugged, stepping into the cottage and glancing around it. "No customers nearly as interesting as you." He smiled, his head tilted up so he could survey the ceillings. "S'a nice little place ya got here."

"Thanks." Dean wiped his sweating palms on his jeans and stepped forward to show Cas around the tiny cottage. "My boss thought that it would be a better use of company money if I rented a college instead of staying in a motel, since we don't know how long I'm going to be here."

"That makes sense." Cas responded, suddenly crowded directly in front of Dean. He gave him a shark smile, his eyes drifting down to Dean's lips before finding their way back to his face. "Before we go to dinner, I want to try something." He whispered, his voice sounding like it had dropped even lower then usual, which Dean hadn't thought possible. He couldn't think of anything coherent to say that would make him sound like a complete idiot, so he just nodded instead.

Cas stepped even closer, his chest brushing over Dean's as he slid his hands to grasp the collar of Dean's shirt, tugging his head down. The next thing Dean knew, his lips were being brushed open by a sweeping, warm tongue. He gasped out a groan, allowing Cas to deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the roof of Dean's mouth. His fingers closed over Cas' ribs, tugging him even closer as the other man's fingers released his shirt in favor of burying themselves in his hair. He tugged lightly on the strands, shifting and moving Dean's head in the direction he wanted.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting against one another, both of their chests were heaving. Cas hummed low in his throat and nodded against Dean's forehead before pulling away, his blue eyes heavily lidded.

"I think I can work with that. Shall we go to dinner, then?" He smirked, striding to the door and opening it for a rather shell-shocked Dean, who walked numbly out to the truck, his jaw still hanging open and his lips tingling. The man was a charmer, he had to at least give him that...He was halfway into the cab of the pick-up when a low whine from the back seat drew his attention. Deep brown eyes were watching him from under floppy black and white fur.

"What is that?" Dean squeaked, his hand tightening on the door handle. Cas chuckled and slid into the driver's seat.

"Hmm? Oh, this is Murphy, my dog." Dean stared at the dog, which he was pretty sure was a Border Collie thanks to Sam's fascination with Animal Planet, with wide eyes. "That's not going to be a problem is it?" Dean scoffed rather unconvincingly. "Dean? Are you..._afraid of dogs_?"

"Pfft, what? No! I've been on assignment in Afghanistan, dodging bullets and sand fleas. Why would I be scared of some dog?" Cas chuckled and reached back, scratching the dog behind the ear and giving him a low whistle. The dog dropped to his belly on the back seat obidiently.

"So, that's a yes, then?" He snickered, reaching across the seat and patting Dean's knee reassuringly. He retracted his hand after a moment, flicking the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Dean questioned as he watched the dark landscape pass by the window. Cas let out another deep chuckle.

"If I tell you, it won't be a secret."

"Why does it have to be a sec-." Cas cut Dean off, reaching across the seat and placing his hand over Dean's mouth.

"You know, I'm not good at this dating thing, Dean, but I'm really trying here. I'm trying to be romantic." Dean smirked, his lips curling against Cas' palm before it dropped away. "Balthazar was right earlier, by the way."

"What?" Dean quirked his eyebrow upward, his head tilting to the side as he looked across the truck cab at Cas.

"When he said that I'm only...well, confident and upfront when I'm behind the bar." He stated sheepishly.

"Says the man that just kissed me senseless on a whim." Dean could see the blush creeping its way up his neck in the glow of the dashboard lights. Cas cleared his throat nervously before he responded.

"That wasn't on a whim. I was doin' an experiment." He paused, waving his hand in the space between them. "Ya know...for...science." Dean barked out a laugh and shifted in his seat to stare at Cas, who's eyes remained pointedly on the road.

"For science? Really?" He chuckled, his eyebrows making a trip skyward on his forehead. "_That's_ the excuse you're going with?"

"It's plausible." Cas responded, keeping his voice even.

"Plausible, huh?" Dean nodded, smirking still as he turned back to face forward in his seat. "Okay. But, uh, next time, Bill Nye? You don't need an excuse if you want to kiss me. Just do it."

Cas flushed crimson again, and swallowed audibly before giving a nod in response. They drove a few more miles in silence before Murphy let out a sigh from the back seat, causing Dean to nearly jump out of his skin. Cas' laugh filled the cab of the truck, and it momentarily made Dean forget that there was a potentially murderous beast behind him. A murderous beast that was yipping and kicking a foot happily in his sleep, but a beast nonetheless...

"He won't hurt you, I promise." Cas snickered, watching Dean out of the corner of his eyes as he steered the truck onto a bumpy dirt road.

"Yeah, you say that until I wake up one morning and he's making puppy chow out of my face." Dean grumbled, toying with the edge of his shirt absently.

"You plannin' on wakin' up in the same house as my dog frequently, Mister Winchester." Dean's stomach flipped. Holy shit. He'd actually implied that hadn't he?

"I...uh..." He floundered for a moment before the truck came to a halt. He glanced around, trying to take in the surroundings as Cas rummaged around the truck, gathering things. There was an enormous building shadowed against the dark night sky, and Dean vaguely registered that there wasn't another building in sight. "Where are we?"

"Well," Cas muttered, his voice muffled due to his head being half-buried under the back seat. Murphy had woken and was sitting on the seat, pawing at Cas' back playfully and whining. "Murphy, out, quit scratching my back, ya eidjit." Cas grumbled. The dog hopped up, running across Cas' back and hopping out of the truck. Dean heard a triumpant sound from under the seat and moments later, a flashlight beam was pointed at his chest. "I figured that, since you've been doing your research since you got here, you haven't taken a chance to check out the castles yet. So, I thought I'd show you one." Dean gaped at the castle, slipping out of the truck and looking over the ruins of the castle carefully.

Murphy was running and rolling in the grass that was wet with the beginning of a light rain shower, yipping and whining happily. Dean took half a step forward, his eyes roaming over the hard edges of tattered, crumbling bricks that made up the castle. Cas was beside him, his arm brushing Dean's gently.

"What d'you think?"

"It's awesome." Dean breathed, turning his head slightly to look down at Cas. The other man was watching him with the same level of attention that he'd seen on his face at the bar that afternoon. There was..._something_ about the intensity of his eyes that made Dean's stomach flip and flop every time that he looked into them. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Dean." He slid his hand into Dean's lacing their fingers and tugging him forward. "C'mon, let me show ya around." They moved across the wet grass easily, the rain pattering on Dean's head and slipping through the strands of his hair.

"It's raining again." Dean whispered. He was sure he probably didn't need to point the fact out to Cas, if the soft laugh he got in response was an indication, but it was something to say. If he didn't at least say _something_ his mind was going to go in a thousand different directions about what the hell was happening.

He knew that Cas liked him, that was obvious, but...he was on assignment, eventually he was going to have to go back to America. What was he supposed to do then? He internally sighed, knowing that he was already starting to feel attatched to the other man and it hadn't even been twenty-four hours. He was so screwed.

They moved through the ruins carefully, hopping and crawling over the piles of rubble inside the castle, Murphy trailling along behind them, the sound of his nails clicking on the stone echoing. Dean had just climbed over the bulk of one rock when he heard Cas' concerned yelp. He turned just in time to see the other man falling in a heap of limbs toward him, and reached his arms out, catching him easily.

"You okay, there, Cas?" He whispered, his arms wrapped tightly around Cas' waist, holding him tightly to his chest.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little clumsy footin' on my part. Sorry I fell on ya." He laughed, placing his palms on Dean's chest. Dean looked down at him, watching the tip of Cas' tongue as it flicked out to wet his chapped lips slowly. He followed the movement with his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat.

He meant to respond to Cas, he honestly had, but pressing his lips against the smaller man's suddenly felt like a much better idea then making idle chit-chat.

He slid his hand into Cas' hair, pulling him even closer as he nipped his way along Cas' bottom lip. Cas groaned low in his throat, his hands moving around to splay across Dean's shoulder blades, his blunt nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. Dean had just allowed his hands to slip under the back of Cas' shirt when a sharp bark had him pulling back. Murphy was sitting by their feet, his ears pinned back against his head as he growled quietly.

"Oi, Murphy. What's the matter with you, dog?" Cas chuckled, reaching down and scratching behind the dog's collar. Murphy's tongue lolled out of his mouth as he leaned in to Cas' touch, but he pointedly kept one eye on Dean.

"I don't think he likes me touching you..." Dean laughed nervously, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

"That's crazy talk, there's no way that my dog is jealous." Cas laughed, shaking his head. Dean quirked a brow and reached out, putting his hand on Cas' shoulder, earning him another growl. "Maybe you're right." Cas muttered. Dean dropped his hand back to his side slowly and the growling subsided immediately. "Wow..."

"He ever done that before?" Dean chuckled. Cas shook his head in response.

"Never. But, I've also never brought anyone around him before either." Dean's head tilted to the side curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've had dates before, but none of them have ever met Murphy. I've just taken them to the pub." Cas responded, running his hands through his hair and shaking the rain water out of it. "Makes you kinda special." He smiled, his blue eyes soft and sparkling.

"I'm glad." Dean whispered, reaching out and sliding his fingers along Castiel's jaw. "I'm really happy that I met you, Cas."

"I'm happy too, Dean. I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

"Neither have I. I've been so caught up with everything for my career that I guess I forgot how much fun doing something for me can be. And having you here with me doesn't exactly hurt the situation either." He teased. Murphy whined at him, and Dean turned to look at him, his heart caught by the warm puppy gaze that looked up at him. "What?" The dog whined again and shuffled closer before settling back onto its haunces, pushing against his hand with a cold, wet nose. Dean sighed and knelt onto one knee. He pointed his index finger at Murphy. "You bite me, I'll bite ya back. No hesitation."

He edged his hand forward, running his fingers through Murphy's fur carefully. It was soft, and silky. It reminded him of the blanket that his mother used to keep draped over the back of their couch when he and Sammy were kids.

"I told you he wouldn't hurt you." Cas' voice was low and even as he spoke, kneeling next to Dean on the rain-damp floor. Dean smiled and continued to pet Murphy, who dropped down and rolled over onto his back so that Dean could rub his belly. He chuckled and scratched his fingernails lightly over the dog's stomach. "He likes you."

"He just doesn't like me if I'm touching _you_."

"I guess not." Cas laughed, reaching down and settling his hand onto Dean's shoulder, squeezing it lightly through the fabric of his shirt. Dean had just risen to his feet and settled his hands on Cas' shoulders, already missing the way the other man's tongue tasted against his own, when Cas' phone began ringing in his jacket phone began ringing. He sighed heavily and slid the phone from his pocket. "Hello? Yes. Oh...is she alright? Yes, of course. I'll be in to lock up. See you soon." He thumbed the call to end and looked at Dean apologetically.

"It's okay, Cas, if there's some kind of emergency you don't have to feel bad." Cas ran his hand over the back of his neck.

"It's Jo, a lass I work with at the pub, her mother is ill and she needs to go be with her. I need to go lock up at the pub, it shouldn't take more then an hour. You wouldn't...do you want to come with me?" Dean could hear the glimer of hope in Cas' voice, and he couldn't have said no if he'd tried to.

"Sure, Cas, that sounds great." The men and Murphy scrambled back across the rocks and the wet grass to pile back into the cab of the truck, and headed towards the pub.

**X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX X XX**

The pub had been cleared out by the time they'd gotten there, all of the patrons having wandered to the next bar out of respect for Jo and the rest of the staff. They strode in together, Murphy at their heels, and Dean followed Cas until they reached the bar. He took a seat on the same stool he'd been on before and settled his chin onto his hands.

Cas moved effortlessly around behind the bar, his fingers skittering over the long, smooth necks of liquor bottles to make sure that they had all been covered with a stopper, and he wove around dish carts and wayward trashcans. Dean was enthralled. Cas had been right, all of the awkard shyness in his movements disappeared when he was behind that bar.

Murphy huffed out a sigh and laid down under the table, laying his head on Dean's boot. He glanced under the table at the dog and smiled softly. Maybe not all dogs were terrible...

By the time Cas had finished everything that was necessary to close up the pub, Dean had found a comfortable position reclining against the far wall, his head lolled back against the wall and his mouth hanging open slightly as he snored quietly. Murphy was sprawled across the lap, the dog's paws hooked over Dean's legs. Cas smiled and moved across the pub to the dust covered jukebox. He banged his fist against the side of it lightly until it flickered to life, then thumbed the buttons to pick a song.

The guitar filtered through the silence of the pub, jolting Dean from his sleep. He stretched and yawned before climbing to his feet, shifting Murphy carefully so that he didn't wake the dog.

"D'you finish it all up?" He questioned sleepily. Cas chuckled quietly and crossed to stand in front of Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck. Dean instinctively wrapped his own arms around Cas' waist holding him tightly.

"Yes, it's all wrapped up, sleepy head." Dean gave him a lop-sided grin, kissing the end of his nose. Cas gave him a shy smile, the smile that Dean had already come to love because of the tinge of red blush that painted his nose, cheeks, and even the tips of his ears.

"How is it that I just met you this afternoon and I already feel like I've known you my entire life?" Dean whispered through the silence that stretched between them. The other man chuckled and reached up to brush a rogue strand of hair away from Dean's forehead.

"Sometimes people meet each other and they just share...I don't know, a profound sort of bond. Maybe that's what we have together." He replied, his Irish brogue coloring the words so thickly that Dean almost couldn't understand him. He leaned down and brushed his nose over Cas', loving the way that the large hands slid off his neck and settled onto his shoulder blades, kneading softly.

"You're Irish is showing." He teased. Cas let out a breathy laugh, his breath smelling of strong coffee, and the faint tingle of a mint.

"My Irish is always showing, lad. I just try to keep it on a leash when I'm around you. Most of ya can't understand when I really let me accent out to play. Turns all those blue blooded Yanks into a quiverin' puddle of hormones." He smirked, leaning in to nip Dean's lower lip to punctuate the end of the sentence. Dean groaned softly but didn't allow himself to be pulled into the trap. He simply tightened his arm around Cas' waist and pulled him closer.

"Dance with me." He rasped, having trouble finding his voice through the fog of emotion clouding his head. They began to sway slowly in the center of the pub, Cas leaning forward to tuck his head under Dean's chin, and Dean reaching his hand up to bury into Cas' wild hair. The stubble coating Cas' jaw tickled Dean's collarbone and he smiled to himself, humming contentedly.

"You smell nice, Dean. Like leather and car oil." Dean huffed out a laugh.

"That doesn't sound like it smells nice at all."

"It smells like you. I like the way you smell." Cas paused, pulling his head back to look up at Dean. "That sounded weird. Was that weird?" His brow furrowed over concerned blue eyes. Dean chuckled, and a leaned down, brushing his lips over Cas'. The other man's breath hitched audibly and his hands tightened on Dean's shirt. When they broke apart, Cas was smiling shyly, another blush painting his cheeks.

"It wasn't weird." Dean conceeded, smiling down at him. Cas held up his index finger in front of Dean's face.

"I almost forgot, I found something at the castle for you." He fished in his jeans pocket before pulling out a half-dollar sized rock. It was a strange blue-green color and was completely smooth. Dean took it in his hand when Cas held it out, rolling it around in his palm a couple of times. "It's a worry stone."

"A worry stone?"

"Yes, I've noticed that you looked conflicted, even when we were both having a good time. A worry stone is something that you carry in your pocket. When you're upset, or worried, you take it out and you rub your thumb over it, like this," He reached forward and ran his thumb over the face of the stone. "And it will take all of your worries and lock them inside the stone."

"You really believe that, Cas?" Dean questioned, slipping the rock into his pocket, loving the way the stone was warm, even through the fabric of his pocket, from Cas' thumb being pressed against it.

"Yes, I do, Dean. I'm Irish, love. We believe all sorts of crazy things. Haven't ya ever heard of leprechauns?" Cas winked, pulling Dean in for another quick kiss.

"Well, thank you, Cas. I love it."

"You're welcome." He smiled before looking down at his watch and sighing. "It's getting late, I best get you back to your cottage." He reached down and took Dean's hand in his own. "I want to take you out again, Dean." It was a statement that sounded suspiciously like a pleading question.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Cas shook his head. "Okay, let's do lunch. There's a restraurant in the town square that I really like." The smile that Cas' gave him coul dhave lit up an entire planet.

"Okay. Lunch. Tomorrow." He nodded emphatically, more to himself then to Dean as he shuffled them towards the door. He let out a low whistle and Murphy was on his feet, sprinting out the door and hopping into the bed of the truck.

Cas held the door open for Dean while he got in the truck. And he held his hand while the made their way across weathered cobblestones and rain tattered dirt roads. And, when they finally reached Dean's cottage, he kissed him goodnight for longer then was probably appropriate by the 'second base' metaphor, but Dean couldn't care less.

The only thing that he gave half a damn about as he watched the truck's tail lights disappear was that tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, smile for me." Dean laughed, holding his phone up and snapping a picture. He looked down at it fondly, admiring the way that Cas' nose crinkled when he was smiling. "It's a good one."

"Who knew a high-end photojournalist like yourself could be bothered to use a measly camera phone." Cas chuckled, leaning in to place a kiss against Dean's cheek. He was drawing in the dirt in front of him absently with a stick.

"I left my camera on the table in your apartment." Dean frowned, running his fingers through Cas' hair to smooth down the strands that blew in the wind. He smiled softly when Cas looked over at him. "Your eyes are beautiful." A light blush painted Cas' cheeks.

"Dean." He whispered, giving Dean a lop-sided grin.

"I'm so glad that I met you, Cas." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to Cas' lips, his hand cupping the back of the other man's head. Cas groaned quietly and grasped the front of Dean's shirt tightly. He smiled into the kiss, flicking his tongue over Cas' lips softly. He had just moved to deepen the kiss when a rumble of thunder broke through the air. Seconds later, the sky opened up and rain began pouring down.

Dean yelped and jumped to his feet, tugging Cas up as well. They ran through the town, dodging the raindrops and laughing like children. By the time they had reached the walk-up to Cas' apartment above the pub, their shirts were both soaked through. They scampered up the rickety steps, their boots sliding on the chipping paint to the pale blue door.

Cas fumbled with the key in the rusty lock for a moment, laughing so hard that Dean could see tears forming in his eyes. They were both gasping for air and leaning forward to brace their hands on their knees by the time they tumbled through the door. Murphy looked at them from his dog bed, tilting his head curiously as he watched Cas shaking his hair out, the water droplets flying everywhere.

"That storm came outta nowhere, didn't it, lad?" Cas chuckled, swiping his hand over his face to wipe the water away. Dean laughed and nodded slowly.

"What was it Balthazar told me that first day? 'You're in Ireland, lad'?" He smirked with an effected Irish accent, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Cas' hips, pulling him close. Cas just laughed, low in his throat, and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders while burying his face into the crook of Dean's neck. That day seemed like it had been an eternity before, when in reality it had only been three weeks.

He'd be lying, however, if he said that it wasn't the best three weeks of his entire life. Falling head over heels for Cas had been the most simple thing in the world. Perhaps it was the setting, or maybe it was the way that Cas' eyes lit up when he smiled, but Dean had the sinking feeling in his stomach that home wasn't going to feel the same.

Hell, he wasn't even sure where 'home' was anymore...but it was damned sure starting to feel like a cramped apartment over a loud and rowdy pub, with a dog that he wasn't even sure he actually liked, and a hot water heater that barely stayed on long enough for both of them to shower. Home had somehow gone from an empty backwoods cabin and half-assed phone calls to his brother to blue eyes, a dazzling smile, and a deep red tie under a black vest leaning over a damp bar.

"Hey," He whispered, leaning in an brushing his nose over Cas' softly. "C'mere." He tugged lightly, pulling the other man even closer then he had been before, their wet clothes squishing together loudly. Cas' thumb brushed over his collarbone softly, sending chills through his body.

"I am here." Dean would never get over how deep Cas' voice got or how thick his accent was when he was aroused. When he finally closed the gap between them and fused their mouths together, it felt like an electric charge through his body. His limbs all tingled with the groan that Cas gave when his hands found their way under his soaked shirt, lifting it over his head.

The shirt hit the floor with a wet smack, but Dean couldn't be bothered with it. He was too preoccupied with trailing hot, open-mouthed kissed over the rain-damp skin of Cas' shoulder. When he got to the swirling ink of the Celtic cross on his shoulder, his tongue flicked out, trying its best to see if the inked skin tasted any different then the blank slate. He was as pleased as ever to find that all of it tasted exactly the same, and all of it was deliciously..._Cas_.

"_Dean_." Cas groaned when Dean's teeth scraped over this skin, his fingers grasping Cas' hips hard enough that he was pretty sure there would be bruises marring the ivory skin. He licked his way across the light freckles that covered Cas' chest, nipping at each one of them. He smirked when he felt Cas' fingers tangling in his hair.

"Easy, babe, easy." He whispered into the skin of his stomach, sinking to his knees and tugging Cas' belt free of the loops. He peered up to watch the heavily lidded blue eyes staring down at him while he worked the fly of Cas' jeans open. He placed a soft kiss to the soft skin just below his belly button once he'd finally worked the button open and the zipper down. Cas growled something that sounded like 'hurry', and pressed his palm against the top of Dean's head, trying to push him toward the growing bulge in his boxers.

Dean chuckled quietly and mouthed at Cas' hardness through the thin cotton. Cas cursed under his breath, something in Gaelic that Dean couldn't understand but that got him harder then he could remember being. There was something about the other man getting so lost when he touched him that he coudln't even be bothered to speak English that got Dean's blood pumping.

He hooked his thumbs in the wet fabric of Cas' boxers and tugged them, along with his jeans, down his legs until they were around his ankles. He smirked and ran his tongue along the underside of Cas' cock slowly, relishing the breathy little gasps that he drew from Cas' lips.

"Jesus, Dean." He whispered when Dean took him all the way in his mouth. Cas' hips snapped forward of their own accord, his fingers tightening in Dean's hair. Dean smirked and began bobbing his head slowly, loosening his jaw so that Cas could thrust in a slow counterpoint to Dean's movements.

The sounds that were coming from Cas' mouth as Dean ran his tongue along his length, flicking into the slit at the tip slightly, were enough to make Dean painfully hard in his jeans. He reached down and palmed himself through the wet denim, the friction making him groan around Cas' cock.

"Oh, fuck." Cas gasped, his stomach clenching as he leaned forward, thrusting deep into Dean's mouth, his hand falling to the other man's shoulders. Dean pulled off quickly with a pop before he could gag around the other man, but quickly dove back in, missing the heavy weight of him on his tongue. He had just started to increase the suction again when Cas' hand was pushing him off and pulling him to his feet.

"Cas, what're-?" Cas sushed him with a warm kiss, pulling away just enough that he and Dean were sharing warm, humid breaths.

"I want to come with you, Dean. I want you to make love to me." He whispered, brushing his nose over Dean's. "Please?" Dean hestitated for a moment.

"Are you sure?" Cas nodded slowly. "Okay, let's go to the bedroom and we can-."

"No. Too far away. Take me here." And if that wasn't the best idea that Dean had ever heard in his life, he didn't know what was. He backed Cas up until his back was pressed against the wall before lifting both of his legs and helping out of his jeans. He reached down and ran his hand up and down Cas' length for a moment, watching as shudders wracked the other man's body.

"God, you're so beautiful, Cas. So damned beautiful." He growled, reaching down and shucking his own clothing. When he leaned forward and pressed their bare chests together, it was like every description of heaven that he'd ever heard. He reached down, splaying his hands over Cas' thigh before pulling his leg up and wrapping it around his hip.

Dean lifted his hand and ran his index and middle fingers over Cas' lip. He took the hint quickly and sucked the digits into his mouth. His tongue swirled over Dean's fingers, getting his fingers slicked with saliva.

"Hold on tight, babe." He whispered, leaning in to nudge at Cas' ear with his nose. He eased his fingers, first one then a second a few moment later, into Cas' entrance. The other man hissed into his shoulder in pain, but soon he was keening and pushing back against Dean's fingers, whimpering pleas into the crook of his neck. Dean slid a third finger in, working him carefully until he felt all of Cas' muscles relaxing around him.

"Dean, need you in me." Cas growled, his teeth sinking into the juncture of Dean's neck and shoulder. Dean grunted his agreement and spit into his hand, slicking up his cock haphazardly (he cursed himself, not for the first time, that he wasn't using lube. Cas deserved better then a spit shine.) and placed himself at Cas' enterance. He slid in with one smooth movement, burying himself to the hilt.

They both groaned loudly, all of their muscles tensing at the sensation of Dean filling Cas. Dean sucked in a couple of gasping breaths, trying to calm himself while he waited for Cas to adjust around him.

"Move, Dean, please move." Cas whispered, his hand tightening around Dean's shoulder. Dean couldn't deny that request and lifted Cas' other leg, holding him tightly so that he was completely off the ground. He began to thrust slowly at first until Cas growled at him to move faster.

The next coherent thought he had was that the only sound in the room was their flesh colliding. He groaned low in his throat as he felt his release building low in his stomach. If Cas' sporadic breaths as he ran his hand over cock were anything to go by, he was edging towards his own release.

Dean snarled as he felt Cas' blunt nails digging down his back. He also felt the warm, humid puffs of Cas' breath against the side of his neck. He began to thrust deeper, feeling his tip brushing over Cas' prostate, making the other man groan and buck down on him, his hand moving wildly over his cock between them.

"Oh, fuck...gonna come, Dean...I'm so close..." He whispered, his accent slurred and barely coordinated. Dean nodded, his cheek brushing over Cas'.

"C'mon, Cas. Come for me. Let go." He whispered. That was all it took, a few strokes and a flick of the wrist later, Cas was spilling between them with a low, primal shout that sounded a lot like Dean's name. The spasming of his muscles around Dean's cock had him tipping over the edge as well. He emptied himself into Cas, his hips stilling until he had completely spent himself.

They stayed there for a moment, clutching one another as their chests heaved and they tried to regulate their breathing. Dean placed a sloppy kiss to Cas' lips, smiling happily.

"That was...wow." He whispered with a chuckle. Cas laughed quietly and ran his fingers through Dean's hair as Dean lowered him back to the floor.

"You can say that again." He chuckled. Cas scowled at the come that was now drying on his stomach. "I need to go wash up. You go to the bedroom and get comfy, I'll be in in a minute." He stated, kissing Dean cheek before heading towards the bathroom.

Dean snagged his camera off of the table and headed towards the bedroom. He slid into the bed, settling into the flannel sheets. He shivered once at the feeling of cool flannel on his bare skin. He set his camera on the nightstand and was fiddling with the comforter when Cas came back and slid into the bed next to him.

He stretched out on his back, one hand reaching out towards Dean, the other curled behind his head. Dean smiled and snagged his camera before rolling to straddle Cas' hips. Cas looked at him with a lazy smile and heavily hooded eyes, his hair still tousled with sex.

Dean snapped photograph after photograph, smling behind the camera until Cas reached out and placed his hand over the lens. He gave a soft chuckle before speaking.

"Dean, what are you doing?" He whispered.

"I'm documenting." Dean muttered, leaning over and placing the camera on the nightstand again. "Your body is a work of art, Cas, and it should be on display in art museums." He settled down onto the pillows, pulling Cas closer so that his head was pillowed on Dean's chest.

"So, you're going to hang my naked arse all over the world?" Dean scoffed and shook his head.

"Hell no. I said it _should_ be displayed in museums. I didn't say that I was going to share you." Cas let out a rather unmanly giggle and swatted at Dean's chest.

"Okay, okay, you big oaf." He laughed, running his hands over Dean's chest. "Do you have to work tomorrow night?"

"I have a few guys I have to interview at lunch, we're meeting at a pub on the otherside of town, but my night is free. Why?" Dean questioned, his eyelids fluttering closed as sleep tried to drag him under.

"Well, my family is having a gatherin', and they all want to meet ya. My brothers are all home at the same time for the first time in ages, so Ma wants us to all come to dinner. You...is that okay? I mean if you don't want to, or if it's too soon, I-." Dean cut him off with a solid kiss to his lips. When he pulled away, he smiled down at Cas.

"Of course I'll come with you." He whispered, thumbing over Cas' cheekbones. "Cas, I..." Cas tilted his head to the side curiously.

"What is it, Dean? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong, I just...I have to tell you something, but I don't want you to freak out. I don't want to scare you off, 'cause I don't know if I could-."

"Dean!" Cas laughed, placing his hand over Dean's mouth for a moment. When he pulled it away, Dean had fallen silent. "Okay. Now, just tell me what it is you have to say, boyo. I promise I won't freak out."

"I love you." Dean blurted out. Cas' jaw hung open for a moment, his eyes wide. Dean was pretty sure that he'd fucked up and was getting ready to make a run for it when Cas' hand landed on the side of his face.

"I love you too, Dean. I have since the first day I saw you in the pub." Cas bluhsed and pillowed his head on Dean's chest. Dean was grinning wildly as he settled back against the pillows, his arm wrapping around Cas' shoulder. "Goodnight, Dean." Cas whispered sleepily. Dean nodded and laid his cheek on the top of Cas' head.

"Goodnight, Cas."


End file.
